In the beginning, there were only the three pumpkin houses. Bright and colourful and jaunty in their dollar store cheerfulness. That October, their windows glowed with the warmth of a tealight flame. They were the ceramic embodiment of Halloween.
But by the following October, they were no longer alone. No longer the focus of the Halloween mantle. And with each passing year, more pumpkins arrived in their neighbourhood. More polished, more detailed ceramic pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns began to crowd them out. Sinister trees sprang up between them, appearing to mock their innocence and simple joyousness.
Indeed, their once-bright exteriors were fading. Marks and smudges belied their age. There was no denying that. Perhaps it was time to move on. Time to leave Halloween to newer, classier, altogether more impressive pumpkins.
But, after considerable reflection, they chose to remain. To stand proudly despite their perceived inferiority. To hold their ground in the midst of a growing pumpkin population. The others might be more attractive. More vivid. More intricate. But the little pumpkin houses had history. They were Halloween veterans. They were the first.
0 comments:
Post a Comment